


Hot Rocks

by executrix



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/executrix/pseuds/executrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caperfic: Priceless jewels. Motorcycles. Leather. Snark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Rocks

**1**  
More than occasionally, Mal thought that if he had to do it all over again, he'd tell them, "Gimme back my witch. Go right ahead and barbecue the boy, that's what floats your boat." Which would certainly have been the sensible thing to do, for a quiet life. Mal thought that a leader had to be a loner, because once you got someone else tangled in your life—tangled in your **lines** \--then you'd never be able to cast them straight again. If everyone he'd killed were laid end to end, they'd stretch out quite some distance.

Mal figured that he mostly let Simon start it up with him because of Inara's reaction to that whole bad business with Nandi (at which point he began to worry about everyone he ever laid being killed end to end). Mal knew it was mean to be satisfied by someone else's upset. But he couldn't help slipping down the slope of going ahead with something that would **really** fry Inara's ice.

And anyway, if Mal had opted for the simple and the quiet, then he'd miss his noisy life, and the gleam of a shoulder peeking up above the blanket, and Simon melting like a flamethrower. And in that case they would never have ended up doing not only various things that Mal didn't even bother to say he didn't do because it was so obvious. So they'd never have gotten around to various things that Mal didn't even know were doable.

They didn't sleep in the same bed. Mal pretended that was in case River or someone called for Simon at night. But before Simon got dressed and left Mal's cabin he'd often wake from a doze. Eyes still closed, he'd roll over, his mouth already half-open, trusting that a kiss would be there when he completed the revolution. The expectancy drove Mal crazy, and he was always tempted to pull back just to watch Simon flop down on the bed and wake up startled. Mal resisted the temptation because he didn't like the amount of fun he got out of meanness, and anyway Simon was a considerable kisser.

Simon was a compact, ergodynamic six-feet-minus-two, most of it mouth—a trait that Mal found much more endearing when Simon was smarting off at someone other than himself. He really didn't understand how someone could be so brave and so high-strung at the same time: he seemed to give off a high-pitched vibration all the time, like a dog whistle. However, Simon had the paradoxical ability to fall asleep abruptly and thoroughly as if the current had been switched off—something that Mal had also observed in Zoe.

Zoe was even braver than Simon, but she had reserves of calm that helped Mal, spreading over him like oil over troubled waters. Simon's parlor trick was more like spraying oil on troubled oil fires.

 **2**  
"Glad you could make it here to discuss this little collaboration," Dalloway Jirek said.

"Uh-huh," Mal said. "There some reason—like you just got religion, maybe?—why you don't steal it your ownself? I mean, got a gang and everything." Mal looked around the big parlor in Jirek's big house (Mal supposed you couldn't rightly call it a mansion), full of all manner of knicknacks some of which the person who lifted them didn't even bother to take the price tags off of, and sort of approved. Because looking back on it, Badger's raggedy-ass operation kind of invalidated the man's image of himself as some sort of Napoleon of Crime. Well, except for being short, which he had down pat.

Junior gang members served them with fine, mellow oak-barrel bourbon and little broiled things on sticks. Behind Jirek's high-backed red leather chair stood his 2IC, a beautiful, taciturn woman named Karmella. And that gave Mal a good feeling too, seeing a reflection of his own appreciation of women's strength, loyalty, and efficiency.

"A damn fine reason," Jirek said. "We gotta live here, after the job goes down. You'll be been and gone. Good for both of us. My crew's got so fat and lazy that they'd get pinched, they tried to pull an important heist like this River of Blue Fire thing. And if'n you tried to go off on your own, well, you'd still need a fence, right? And nobody but only me would want to buy it off you."

Mal struggled to keep the effects of ongoing ownership of the Lassiter off his face.

 **3**  
"Whattinruttinhell is that thing and why's it got a couple of swole-up shiny testicles on the back?" Mal asked. It was a long sentence through a dry throat. {{And mother of **God** where'd you get that outfit?}} he thought. Mal already knew damn well how Simon's waist tapered in from his shoulders, it was a fine place to park your legs, but **damn** he was wearing a black leather jacket, and it had two steel buckles at the waist and how did he **breathe** in those pants, and he smelled like leather on a hot day.

The black made him look paler than ever, except for a flush of sunburn on his nose. His hair was ruffled up—from the wind, maybe?—except it reminded Mal of when it got ruffled up rubbing against the pillow with his back arched all helplessly and altogether he was pretty as Luxury Commercial Sin from wherever Inara bought hers.

"It's a motorcycle, sort of a personal one…or two…person mule. And the…gonads lift off because they are actually our helmets," Simon said. He tossed one of them to Mal. "I think you'll be all right, your coat will protect you if we dump. Which we probably won't, I'm all right on a bike."

Simon put on his helmet and straddled the motorcycle and flicked something on the right-hand handlebar. Noises started up. "Sit behind me and put your arms around my waist and hold tight. Lean into the turns."

"Now tell me why we need this damn thing."

"So we can take the handoff and be long gone before the witnesses—if any—suspect anything. Come on, let's take it for a spin, so you'll be comfortable on the day."

"Yeah, but why'm I sittin' behind you?"

"Considering that I've been riding these 'damn things' since I was fourteen, and you don't even know what they're called…"

"All right, point taken."

They rode around in a circle for a while and then up the ramp into the ship.

"Damn!" Jayne said. "Kickass bike. Where'd ya get it?"

"Well, Jayne," Simon said, "I was standing around minding my own business when a beautiful woman drove up on it. She instantly stripped off all her clothing, threw herself to the ground, and purred, 'If you see anything you like, baby, just help yourself.' And I didn't think the clothes would fit me so I thanked her and rode away. Where do you **think** I got it? It was time to say Hello to Mr. Grand Theft Auto."

"Don't touch it, Jayne," Mal said. "In fact, stop lookin' at it 'fore you chip the paint off."

River popped out from under the stairs. "Oh, God, it's the dirt bikes again. I was **so** jealous when Dad would take you out to the desert for Bonding Experiences."

"Eight-year-olds don't ride motorcycles," Simon said. "And, frankly, not only did I miss you, but I was jealous that you **didn't** have to go."

"You idolized him," River said.

"Preferably in settings that didn't involve sleeping on top of rocks," Simon said. "Hot rocks, generally. On hot nights."

 **4**  
"He—I—he," Simon said, staring down into the vortex that steamed up from his cup of white tea, "Well! I love him, and I must say it surprises me because he is not the person I expected to spend the twilight years of my life with—which by the way I expected would be, say, "107 to 110" and not "26 to 28"—but—just because he bought this ship, which in itself is something of a surprise when there must have been some way he could have stolen it—doesn't mean that everybody as well as everything on it belongs to him."

"That's an odd thing for you to say," Book said. "Because he doesn't appear to me to be a possessive man. Rather, a man fleeing in terror from any form of commitment."

Simon looked up at Book. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be burdening you with this. That was tactless. Because, well, for Christians, men with men is…an issue, isn't it?"

Book gave a small, secret smile. "If you like, I can freshen up my sermon about the evils of fornication. Although I'm not sure that Malcolm Reynolds is the marital partner I would wish on anyone. Your family weren't religious?"

Simon shrugged. "Oh, a few times a year, we'd go to the temple, burn some incense…but no. Unless you mean worship of Respectability. In which case I guess my sister was the sacrifice thrown into the fiery mouth of the idol."

 **5b >"They'll look up his picture," Kaylee said worriedly.**

 **"Fat lot of good it'll do them," River said. "He's a **reclusive** billionaire. They've heard of him, of course, but there's no solid information to be found. He is smoke. Incense of burning money."**

Kaylee checked behind her to see that the privacy screen was in place, then Waved up to Lombardagli's. "This is Davis Perkoyle's secretary," she said, trying to sound sternly efficient. "Mr. Perkoyle will be visiting your shop tomorrow. Please do not release this information to the press, but he is newly married—she used to be his bodyguard, y'see—and he wants to buy her some appropriate jewels for her new gig—I mean, her new state of life."

 **6**  
You couldn't really call it a slinky dress. It had the kind of elegant simplicity that came from the collision between Inara's best cashmere shawl and the fastest dress River could make without a pattern. The sleeveless shift came a few inches below Zoe's knees, and her hair spilled onto the azure fabric. She sighed when she took off her necklace, but it would hardly do to wear it into the shop.

Mal thought it was good for River to get more involved in their jobs, and Simon, however reluctantly, had to agree that her role was safe enough. The problem had been borrowing the sewing machine from Kaylee while discouraging her from getting anywhere near the process of design and fabrication. River solved the dilemma by telling Kaylee she wanted to make some frog beanbags to tack to the inside of the hull for good luck, because if Kaylee ever remembered the story once she got her machine back, then River would just go off on a tangent and nobody'd think it was odd if **she** forgot.

Zoe's outfit was completed by a broad-brimmed white hat with a turquoise paisley scarf as a hatband, and a big pair of white sunglasses and spotless white kid shortie gloves. Coincidentally, the elegant accessories made her hard to recognize and kept her fingerprints off things.

 **7**  
Wash, in his splashiest shirt, the one with the orange olive trees against the background of tropical sunsets, and Zoe in her aquamarine dress, stepped into Lombardagli's. In case after glass case, gems sparkled against black velvet, catching the sun's rays channeled by the many tall windows with their tiny panes of glass.

Zoe had a wonderful time curling her lip at everything they fetched out of the cases, and making them run back to get another tray from across the room. After half an hour or so, Wash scratched his lip beneath the false mustache, pinched the bridge of his nose beneath the aviator shades, and grumbled about making a long haul only to see a lot of gimcrack **costume jewelry** that wasn't anywhere near fine enough for his bride.

"Well, sir, there **is** the River of Blue Fire," the saleswoman said deferentially. She went to the vault and returned, carrying a black velvet cushion ahead of her as if it contained a crown rather than a necklace with a huge pear-shaped blue diamond hanging from a thin chain fully set in small diamonds.

"Oh!" Zoe said, her hand at her throat in mock-alarm. "Look at that rough-looking man over there! What is he doing in a place like this?"

All eyes swivelled in Jayne's direction. He reached into his carpetbag, threw a percussion grenade into a corner of the room and a couple of smoke grenades, one of them directly at Zoe. By the time anyone could see or hear anything, he had fled.

Zoe—by no means entirely acting—collapsed to the floor, gasping and choking. "Darling!" Wash shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing several potential witness' attention as he knelt by her side. She had already unclasped the necklace. Wash palmed it, ran beneath the smoke to the tiny pane Mal had already scored out and tacked back in with putty, and took a deep breath. Yes, there were Mal and Simon roaring up on a motorcycle, just as planned. He punched out the glass, counted one-two-three and threw the necklace out the window.

Mal caught it, and for just an instant the air sparkled around his outstretched hand and he closed his hand. He pulled his hand down, stashed the necklace in his coat pocket, and put his arm back around Simon's waist. "Mmmm?" Simon asked, over the roar of the engine.

"Yes!" Mal yelled.

They were three minutes late back to the ship, because of an unscheduled stop. Simon pulled into an alley, cut the engine (it was still hot against the back of Mal's legs when Simon spun him around) and the helmet kind of got in the way and Mal wasn't quite sure if it had happened after he slumped over Simon's shoulder as he started up the bike again because it wasn't the kind of thing Simon **did**.

 **8**  
Mal and Simon did get back after that tiny vacation, and River opened the door. "It was like Prometheus stealing fire!" Simon said. He checked to see that a bit of the chain was still peeking out of the pocket of Mal's coat. He grabbed both of Mal's hands and whirled him around, giddy as if someone had put Ecstasy in his nitrous oxide.

"Steady, boy," Mal said. "Ain't professional. We don't do this just to give you a thrill." Mal looked around the cargo bay. "Where're Zo' and Wash?" he asked.

"Zoe waved me from the store," River said. "I said I was their lawyer and that I was going to sue them from arsehole to banana peels if they didn't make it up to my clients for a distressing experience such as no plutocrat should ever be expected to undergo."

"Sounds like Mr. Ren-Yueh," Simon said.

"He was my role model," River said. "So Lombardagli's is putting them up for the night in a fancy hotel. I think they sent Mr. and Mrs. Perkoyle a new outfit too. So somebody who isn't Jayne should probably take the mule over tomorrow to pick them up."

Mal put his hand into his pocket and drew out the necklace, letting it hang down from the chain looped over his fingers. Everyone gasped. "I'll give Jirek a wave, tell him Mission Accomplished and we'll be by on Wednesday to deliver it just like we said." Mal gazed, hypnotized, at the glorious diamond.

"Why not let me keep hold on it?" Jayne asked. "Considerin' that the plan's generally that anyone with malice in mind's gotta go through me first."

Mal turned it over in his mind, the possibilities flashing like the huge blue stone. {{Because if you don't trust folks, that makes 'em less trustworthy than they was before, which may have been a boatload. And when things head south like they usually do, it's good to have some company when it comes to gettin' blamed.}} "All right," he said. "In the gun safe, mind. No playin' with it."

"What, like that pingpong you got goin' with it? 'Course not."

 **9**  
River stabbed at Jayne's mind to make sure he wouldn't return to his cabin in just the next few minutes, then floated in as she'd done several times before. There wasn't much entertainment on board, and she liked to find out what people didn't display openly.

She spent a few happy minutes memorizing, then floated out again.

 **10**  
"Cap'n?" Kaylee said. "Last inventory, we're way short on corrundamon wafers. Dunno what happened to 'em, but best we replace 'em. We can go to the market when we get the rest of the pay for this job."

"Space monkeys et 'em up?" Mal suggested, his mind not really on the conversation.

 **11**  
It was truly unfortunate that it happened to be Jayne who answered the comm the next day and let Karmella dock her shuttle. The best case would have been Zoe, but after she got back, relaxed from a heated-stone spa treatment and still smelling like tuberose bath oil, she was balancing the books for the personal accounts after Simon withdrew a hundred credits in cash from his account.

Next best, but messiest, would have been Mal, and most unpredictable would have been River. Book probably would have averted the disaster by not being as innocent as he looked. It couldn't have been Inara, because she never answered the front door bell, and it couldn't have been Wash because he was driving the mule that Simon had commandeered to put back the motorcycle (a hundred-credit note tucked into the gas cap) where he had reversibly stolen it from.

"Change in plans," Karmella said. "Jirek's off planet, so he sent me to pick it up now instead of y'all bringin' it by tomorrow. Here's the receipt. Hey, you got great teeth. Not like Jirek's little pointy rat teeth. Wanna fuck?"

"I ain't the fool to turn down a free thrust from a beautiful woman," Jayne said. "It's in my rack anyhow, so we can save a trip."

It didn't take long to give her the guided tour of his cabin. She exclaimed over the various guns behind the blanket. When she saw the River of Blue Fire hanging out of Vera's barrel, she just said, "Casual!" and tucked the necklace into the pocket of her flak jacket. "Here, let me hang that up for you," Jayne said, ("Classy!" she said) and then he knelt at her feet to unlace her boots.

 **12**  
Wash spread strawberry jam to the very edge of the bread and folded it into a U-shape before lifting it to his mouth. "And what, o Captain, is our aerospatial amusement for today?"

"Roll on over to Jirek's, give'm the pretty, and get paid," Mal said. "Jayne, Zo', you back me up."

"What the hey?" Jayne said. "Didn't nobody tell you? Jirek sent that girl of his to pick it up yesterday. So I give it her. As to what kinda 'it' a gentleman don't kiss and tell."

"Whereas you tell and don't kiss," Wash said. "See how it all fits together?"

Mal dropped his head into his hands, wondering if the next time he did that it would still be attached. "You just let that little gal waltz in and take it on her own say-so and didn't even ask me."

"Ain't quite as dumb as I seem," Jayne said smugly.

"Of course not," Wash said. "You're too lazy to work that hard."

"You're **so** amusin', Wash. Naah, I remembered up what happened with your Missus, Mal. All right, in your case only reason a gal'd sex up with you'd be if she had some badness in mind. But it was right convenient that you could go and find her, well the first time, not so convenient that we got stuck with that Lassiter that we can't sell and you won't let me so much as touch. But let's let bygones be bygones. I thought I might need to see that Karmella again and not just for a rematch. So I stuck a tracer transmitter in her boot heel. Now, I'm sure she changes her scanties more than occasionally, and her boots might not be on the same planet she is, but it's worth a try 'cause anyone who knows where she parks her boots might know where she is."

"All right, Jayne, you made this mess, you go clean it up," Mal said, feeling a tiny stirring of hope. "Simon, you go 'long with him. 'Bout time you got some experience pilotin' the shuttle the far side of a flight simulator."

 **13**  
"Don't need no baby-sitter," Jayne said.

"'If you love something, let it go. If it never returns, and if it runs off in your shuttle, it probably had a side deal to steal, or in this case, re-steal, the priceless necklace we are already committed to deliver."

"Ain't no back-stabber…all right, I ain't **this** time. Just a fella made an honest mistake, is all."

"Well, I'm here to help."

"What help are you gonna be? Just last week, a Girl Scout beat you up and stole your lunch money."

It was not really a valid double-blind experiment, because when Jayne landed the shuttle and they followed the tracer to a modest but decent hotel, Jayne drew hourglass curves in the air with his hands, smirked, and let his coat fall open, showing the gun butt, at about the same time as Simon gave a careful description of Karmella and sketched her face on a sheet of paper he accompanied by a twenty-credit note. The multi-disciplinary team soon had her room number. Simon knelt and picked the lock while a highly skeptical Jayne held a pencil flashlight for him, but the door opened.

Karmella jumped up to face them. She went for what could have been a back holster. Jayne drew down on her and pulled the trigger before she could reach a gun or throwing knife. Simon stepped over Karmella's fallen body and began to search the room. Jayne kept the gun poised.

After about twelve minutes---and they only had fifteen—Simon noticed that the desk drawer stuck. The necklace was taped to the back of the drawer. He put it in his pocket, nodded to Jayne, and they made a speedy exit.

"Dunno why you told me to use this damn stun gun," Jayne said. "Or why I even listened. I say, you got a quarrel with someone, you end it right then and there when you got the drop. If Mal'd killed that crazy bitch with all the names first time he got the chance, we'd all've been a lot happier."

"Except the crazy bitch," Simon said. "Jayne, killing people is….well, like chocolates. If you eat the whole box at once, it'll make you sick. You have to…space them out. Consume your luxuries sparingly."

Jayne got tired of watching Simon white-knuckle the steering yoke all the way back ("That's why it's got automatics, kid") and took a nap, figuring that if Simon did manage to smash into a meteorite or something, he'd just as soon not see it.

 **14**  
"Oh, hi," Simon said to the crew plus client assembled near the cargo bay door. "Mal, don't worry, we got it back." It occurred to him, based on the strained look on Mal's face, that this was probably not the best thing he could have said.

"Change of plans," Mal and Jirek said, more or less in unison. "Seems he don't think of us a _hehuoren_ no more," Mal said. "We never were partners," Jirek said. _lihai youguan de canyuzhe_ , perhaps. But the drawbacks of this arrangement have outweighed its benefits."

"Jayne, long's you're here and the door's open, escort the seat of his pants off my boat," Mal said. "Your boot'd be good. Jirek, I ain't givin' back the down-payment, and you say you ain't payin' me the balance. So we'll just chalk it up to experience and I'll stay off this boil on the skin of the Cosmos."

Jayne shrugged. They'd still have the necklace, which was something, although it would be mighty hot to sell.

Then, in one of those turns of events that is undesirable but unpredictable—more like a burst pipe in an old house than like a tax demand—River wandered over in Jirek's direction, and he slammed one wiry arm into a hoop imprisoning her arms. The other arm held a huge hunting knife against her throat.

Simon turned to Jayne and yelled, "Shoot the hostage!" Jayne did, to Mal's sublime astonishment. When River slumped down out of Jirek's arms and crashed down on the deck, one of her most grade-A peculiar smiles on her face, and Simon threw the necklace to him, Jirek decided it was time to grab it and get the hell out of there before any more lunacy ensued.

"Wash, close up and get us going. Simon, over here, NOW," Mal said, and strode out of the cargo bay to the first place in the hallway he thought he'd be out of sight and earshot of the balance of his drama-starved crew.

"You got a gun in your pocket, don't you? A real gun, like with bullets? 'Cause I told you take one."

"Yes, I do, Mal, and just at the moment I'm not particularly glad to see you."

"Then why'd you leave it up to Jayne to save your bacon? And why'd you give Jirek the bauble? Tell me that you just thought you couldn't get the shot without dangering her, and I'll pretend to believe you so I'll be able to keep trustin' you," Mal said.

"I'm not going to lie to you even if that's what you need to believe me. Dead is—game **over** , Malcolm, there's a difference…I don't know if there is a soul, or a God to put it there, but…at the hospital, we didn't need the monitors to know when someone was just **gone** And to do that to someone, just for money? Just for money that we stole? I hope to God, if there's any such thing, that I would never do that."

"But that's what we do. That's where you are, boy, not home any more. Or, this's your home now if you got one," Mal said. "Sent you there so's you could learn on the job. And learn to fit in with what you got to do where you gotta be. Ain't no point in the world of bein' the fellow who brings a duck to a cockfight."

"You might want to reconsider the 'boy'," Simon said. "Because where does that leave you?'

"And where are we goin' with this, anyway?" Mal asked, amazed at the suddenly-turned-into-a-girl-type words spilling out of his mouth. His arms were getting tired so he dropped Simon.

"The smart money is on 'shallow unmarked grave,'" Simon said.

"I can't worry about what you're doin' behind my back, and not in that good way neither," Mal said. "Just get the hell out of my face."

Simon stopped breathing, terrified that this time Mal was angry enough to make them leave the ship, and that wherever they went, he'd fail with certainty and finality at protecting River.

Mal interpreted that look, and relented enough to say, "Awww, I ain't tryin' to commit mass murder here, I just don’t want you rubbin' salt in the wound."

 **15**  
The next evening (and many sessions in front of the mirror later), Inara not only came to crew dinner, she came with her arms full of a small, soft package and a rolled scroll in her hand. "Here," Inara said. "Hold on to this. It might help you out if you get in trouble some time when you're back here. Since we can take it as read that if you're back here, you will be in trouble."

"Now, thank you for them gracious words," Mal said. "What is it?"

"A commendation," Inara said. "From the owner of Lombardagli's. For assisting in the no-questions-asked return of his diamond necklace. Companions have a proud heritage of assisting in delicate negotiations, of course."

"Was there a reward?" Jayne asked.

"Yes," Inara said, "And River and I are keeping it." (She didn't mention that the jeweler had capped the meeting by retaining her services, and he had some rather…special…and lucrative needs.) She lifted the soft bundle in her arms, revealing a length of shot silk: mostly paprika, with turmeric and bronzy green lurking in the seeming depths of the shining fabric. "River, would you make me up a dress out of this material? Just like the one you made for Zoe. I'll pay you a hundred platinum."

"Inara, that's very generous of you, but I'm not sure that it's a good idea for River to have money of her own…" Simon began. (He held a plate covered by a napkin, and balanced a pair of chopsticks in his hand, because Mal didn't make him feel terribly welcome at meals.)

"Well, I think it's a splendid idea," Inara said. "River faces some special difficulties in her situation, but overall she's a young woman who has to learn how to be in the world. And that includes managing her own money."

"Wait a minute," Jayne said. "Unless you did some kind o' Companion mental hoodoo on him, how could you give'm back a necklace what Laughing Boy already give back to Jirek? Unless you mean that there was two of 'em, but then where'd the other one come from?"

"River is a remarkably skillful craftswoman," Inara said. "And with modest materials, too."

"She made a necklace good 'nough to fool folks outta just my corrundamon wafers?" Kaylee asked.

"I **was** assisted," River said. "They saw what they wanted to see. And assisted because Book helped too."

"Wait a minute," Mal said. "Everybody went tiptoein' round on everybody and the bottom line is, after we stole that frickin' thing over and over a million times till I thought it was all the same day in Hell, we ain't stole it after all?"

"I daresay that in the moral sense, you are culpable for not one but several thefts," Book said reassuringly.

"Well, I'm gonna start lockin' up my jewels from now on," Mal said, glaring at Jayne.

Simon blushed and looked down. Although perhaps a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Simon, did you put her up to this? 'Cause, you should know by now, we don't steal things 'round here."

"Talk to the eyebrow, Mal."

"Well, all right, we don't steal 'em from each other, and we don't do no freelancin'."

"I'm not his appendix, you know," River said.

"Yeah, I know," Mal said. "He had that took out."

 **16**  
"What're you doin' in here?" Mal asked. He didn't sit down on the bed, because what with Simon being smack-dab in the middle he couldn't sit down on it without sitting next to Simon, and he wasn't over being mad yet even if his own particular taste in sparkling blue jewels happened to be gazing up at him.

"Word on the street was, there was going to be a duckfight," Simon said, carefully stretching his legs because the leather really was **very** tight.

**Author's Note:**

> The Alliance ship "Dortmunder" is probably named after a Donald Westlake character who, in a book called "The Hot Rock," finds himself in the predicament of having to steal the same thing repeatedly.


End file.
